


Dancing in the Dark

by Lir_Soracia



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Parent Elrond, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Strained Relationships, Twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir_Soracia/pseuds/Lir_Soracia
Summary: Elladan will do anything for his brother.Anything. He will sacrifice himself body and soul to heal him. Elrond is conflicted over the path it takes them on.As he left his father's presence to return to Elrohir, the conversation played over in his mind, and he found himself wondering what it had cost his father to give that blessing. He suspected it had cost him even more, to say that he was proud.
Relationships: Elladan & Elrond Peredhel, Elladan/Elrohir (Tolkien)
Kudos: 13





	Dancing in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah. twincest, READ THE DAMN TAGS, do not yell at me in the comments about the referenced non-con or the incest, I will yeet you into oblivion. I chose not to use Archive Warnings because I'm not sure that implied, vaguely referenced past non-con actually counts, but it is in the tags. 
> 
> This is currently a one shot and ends here, but I could write a lot more of it, and maybe I will. If you're up for that, give a holler. ;)

"You sent for me?" Elladan waited respectfully, and as calmly as he could when he was slightly out of breath.

"I did," his father answered, turning slowly, and then frowning as he took in his's eldest son's disheveled appearance. Elladan looked as if he had dressed in rather too much of a hurry, and he wore no cloak, nor were half the laces tied which held together his soft tunic. He looked, indeed, as if he'd been rousted out of bed, although it was not yet late. Elrond studied him silently for a moment, the slight frown lingering on his face. "Were you with Elrohir?"

Elladan hesitated only briefly before he answered, lifting his chin slightly and meeting his father's gaze with determination. "I was," he said simply, neither apologizing nor elaborating.

His father's expression darkened, setting in a look of stern grief, though he said nothing immediately. "I see," he said at last. "I am sorry for... interrupting."

Elladan merely nodded, once, in acknowledgement.  _ Like hell you are,  _ he thought, but it was only slightly bitter. His father had tried, at least--the polite fiction that was rare enough where this subject was concerned.

After a moment, Elrond continued, pacing somewhat as he spoke, in a manner that those who did not know him well would have thought calm and stately, but to his son's eye it betrayed his concern and slight agitation. "I trust you will get some rest tonight," he said pointedly, with just the slightest emphasis on the word 'some'.

It was Elladan's turn to frown, though he did his best to keep his tone level and polite. "I hardly think that is something you need concern yourself with," he replied, and in spite of himself there was a slight sharpness in the words.

Raising an eyebrow at the tone, Elrond frowned again, though less deeply. "Be still, my son; I did not call you here to quarrel at such a time." He raised his head, fixing his son with a stern gaze, his voice taking on the note of authority that marked him as the leader of Rivendell, and indeed of much of elvenkind in this third age. "You ride out tomorrow, both of you, to join the Grey Company and journey with them to the south." He left unspoken the fact that they went into battle, the Company to fight for Aragorn's sake in the war in Gondor, and it was possible they might not return. "I wanted merely to give you my blessing, mine and your mother's, and my wish for your safe return."

Chastened, Elladan bowed his head. "Thank you, father," he murmured. He lifted his gaze again, and their eyes met and held in silence for a long minute.

There were many other things that each of them could have said--many of which had been said before, many times, and some of which had never been. They did not need to be said now, though the unspoken words hung between them, the air tinged with sorrow and regret.

Finally Elrond nodded, moving closer to place a hand on his shoulder. "I am... proud of you both. Serve him well," he said quietly. "He has need of it. Elessar he is called, and the King of Men he shall become, but forget not that he was first called Estel. Whether the Ringbearer succeeds or not, Aragorn remains our last, best hope, and he must not fail."

"He will not," Elladan assured him gravely. "I will serve him with my life, and also my death, if it should come to that."

"Pray that it does not come to that," Elrond answered heavily. He turned away with a sigh, clasping his hands behind his back as he looked out of the western window. "Pray that it does not," he repeated softly. After a moment he turned his head, his expression still and serene, but his eyes held a weariness that betrayed his many years. "You may go, my son, that is all."

Wordless, Elladan bowed deeply, and took his leave.

As he strode down the corridor back to the rooms he shared with his brother, the conversation played over in his mind, and he found himself wondering what it had cost his father to give that blessing. He suspected it had cost him even more, to say that he was proud. 

  
  
  


Elladan's thoughts returned to that day so many years ago, when his father had first learned of the true nature of his sons' relationship. Never mind that they were brothers--that was unheard of, and a great disgrace. That they were both male was bad enough. Such lovers were rare among elves, and highly frowned upon. Children were a rarity and a blessing, and the twins were the last of their line. Their duty to take wives and produce heirs was not something that could be brushed aside lightly. But then, it had not been.

Elrohir had gone missing, much too late returning from a scouting mission, and many elves and rangers had searched for days to find some trace of him, or failing that, of his fate. Elladan had been the one who finally found him, bleeding and broken, torn in body and soul. He had been captured by some of the dark Men who had formed an alliance with the goblins of the Misty Mountains, on his way back from the eastern side of those forbidding peaks. Those men had a deep hatred of all things elvish, their hearts as black as the realm of the masters they served, and they had shown no mercy, not even that of a quick and certain death. He had been bound and beaten, used and left for dead, abandoned in a shallow cave in the eastern foothills--too battered even to move, much less to journey home.

Death, perhaps, would have been kinder. So Elladan had thought in those first dark hours, when his twin was barely conscious and had not recognized him, flinching away from him with a pained cry--as if Elladan had been one of them, come back to hurt him further. There must have been a great many of them, Elladan had thought, to take his brother down and reduce him to such a state. Elrohir was no weakling, nor was he unhandy with a sword. To be overpowered by mere Men must have gone hard with him.

Elladan had cleaned him up, soothing the wounds on his body, horrified by the signs of abuse he found, and more by his brother's nearly broken spirit. The cuts and bruises, and even the broken bones were the least of the damage. Elrohir without spirit was incomprehensible, a travesty and a blow to the foundations of Elladan's well-ordered world. He had done the only thing he could, giving Elrohir what he seemed to need most--acceptance and cleansing of both body and soul, and assurance that he had not been ruined by the touch of darkness.

Once home, Elrohir had healed quickly as only elves can do, but he was never quite the same. Elladan had feared he would see history repeating itself, see his twin fading as their mother had done, unable to bear this world any longer. He had done his best to ensure that did not happen, giving him as much assurance, acceptance, and attention as he might, and love in every way that he could. Elrohir had indeed regained much of his fire, even his laughter and quiet sense of humor. But still he shied away from the touch of others, and permitted none but Elladan into his bed.

Elladan had accepted this with the easy understanding that only a twin could have, their bond being strong enough that it was only a small step from brotherly love to something more and deeper, something physical as well as spiritual. He had sworn to give his brother anything and everything that he could to see him whole and well again, and he thought it no great sacrifice to spend the rest of his life doing just that. He had given his life for his twin's, and he had no regrets. Others had not been as kind.

Elladan remembered glaring at his father, angry and hurt by the reaction which was nevertheless only what he had expected--he had hoped for more, for understanding if not for approval; but he had found neither.

"You know what was done to him!" It was the first time he had ever raised his voice to his father, but it would not be the last. "He cannot bear for any to touch him in that way, save myself. I took him, healed him, I made him clean. I gave him back his dignity, his self-respect." He paused, breathing hard, staring at his implacable father and willing him to see. "Do you know what he would have become if I had not?"

There was a very long silence. "Yes," Elrond said finally with quiet resignation. "I have seen it." His face was drawn, lined, appearing old in a way that elvenkind rarely did.

"Then what would you have me do?" Elladan cried, torn between anger and despair in the face of his father's disapproval. "Leave him, and deny him the only pleasure he is capable of receiving?"

"No," his father answered at last. The single word was reluctant, flat and unwilling. "But you will be discreet." Elrond's voice sounded hard and cold in his son's ears, the tone final, leaving no room for argument. It meant,  _ I will allow this, if I must, but no one must know how you shame me. _

"Very well," Elladan replied, stung. His face burned with anger and humiliation as he turned on his heel and strode from the room.

The matter was rarely spoken of after that, and Elladan had been true to his word. They had been discreet. Almost no one knew the true reason why neither brother paid any heed to the maidens who courted their favor, any one of whom would have been more than pleased to wed one of Elrond's sons. There had been other arguments, and there had been times when their father had tried to put his foot down and say enough was enough, and time they both moved on. That had ended in a shouting match as well, though it had been short and harsh and bitter.

Elladan knew too well that while he might be able to find happiness with another, someday, his brother never would. Elrohir needed him, and time was not going to change that. Elladan had understood that when he had made his choice, but it would not have made a difference if he had not. There had never been a choice, not really. His heart was his brother's, and his life, in whatever way he might give it. For him it was as simple as that.

His father might never understand, but he knew that Elrohir did, and was grateful. Elladan's steps quickened as he neared the room where his brother waited.

_ I will always come back to you. _

  
  



End file.
